


Feel The Rhythm

by lorir_writes



Category: Platinum (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorir_writes/pseuds/lorir_writes
Summary: Raleigh comes up with an unconventional method to help Tiffani find a connection with some of the songs she will perform on her debut album.
Relationships: Raleigh Carrera/Main Character (Platinum)
Kudos: 1





	Feel The Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the music prompt: Despacito

After talking to the music executives and producers of the record label she signed with, Tiffani sat down on the L shaped couch of the music studio lounge, thinking about all the negotiations she made that day. Her contract specified her album must have upbeat pop songs from a few famous songwriters suggested by the executives in exchange for her to add her original work to her debut album. She was okay with it, but soon she found out that her songs had nothing in common with the songs suggested.

Fear clouded her judgments. It was a huge responsibility to sing someone else’s songs. What if the producers dislike the approach she would give to these songs? What if they disapprove her original ones and don’t allow them to be on the record? What if they realize she doesn’t have what it takes to make it in the music business?

“Okay, quit whining. Let’s be practical,” she said to herself. Tiffani opened her acoustic guitar case, placing the guitar on her right thigh and her fingers slid across the fretboard as she played one of the songs the record label had pre-approved for her album. It wasn’t a complex or unpleasant song. But it wasn’t her style. She produced her phone from her pocket and read the lyrics as she reduced the tempo, tapping her boot on the floor to set the pace while her signature guitar pick strummed up and down the strings.

Still not feeling any connection to the song, Tiffani fell back on the couch, throwing her arms over her face. “I need a break…” she mumbled. She needed to get her mind off things. Maybe go out for food or a walk. She texted Shane and waited for his response. Unluckily, he was busy with a project that night. She couldn’t call Avery because she was out of town and she didn’t want to bother a huge pop star with her insecurities.

Frustrated and now suffering from a tension headache, Tiffani sat up, closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips on her forehead and temples, drawing small circles on them when someone took a seat next to her.

“Rough day?”

She didn’t even have to look to know it was Raleigh. If the sarcasm on his velvety tenor voice couldn’t give him away, the enticing musky scent of his cologne was unmistakable.

“That’s one word for it,” she hissed.

"You’re getting feisty… I like it,” he smiled slyly. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“The producers want me to sing someone else’s songs and I’m afraid my songs won’t make the cut because they’re different from the ones they want in my album.“

"And?”

“ _And?!?_ Are you kidding me?!?” She ranted, frustration taking over her features. “I’m a newbie who writes indie/folksy pop but I’m legally obligated to sing twenty-five songs from three famous songwriters who probably write for Avery Wilshere, Britney, and Selena Gomez so the executives can decide which ones they want in the album. Honestly, which songs do you think they will choose?”

“Welcome to show business,” he taunted.

“Gee, thanks! Great advice, Raleigh,” she fumed, plastering a wicked smile on her face. “Now excuse me, I have to go home so I can spend the rest of night banging my head against the wall.”

Tiffani put her guitar back on the case, but as she stood up, Raleigh held her wrist. She freed her wrist from his hold and began to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” He tried to reach for her hand or wrist again, but she was walking faster this time. Before she could storm out, he stepped in front of the door.

“Get out of the way, Raleigh!” She tried to push him away, but he barely moved.

“Can you just wait a second and listen to me?”

“What? Don’t you have anyone else to mock besides me?” She growled.

“I do actually,” he smirked.

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“I wasn’t mocking you. I’m just trying to tell you the truth. I get it, you want to pursue your dream — that’s what all of us want — but the music executives just want money. If you let them take charge, they’ll make you sing whatever they think it’ll be the latest new hit and you’re just going to be another sell-out artist who never will get to show your true self to the world.”

“I hope you have a point because this is the worst pep talk I’ve ever heard and I don’t see any advice or solution in it.”

“You will if you let me finish,” he cocked an eyebrow at her.

She pursed her lips but didn’t protest. “Continue.”

“You will have to give them what they want, but you still can get what you want if you play your cards right.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“Meet them halfway. Adapt your songs to the genre they want you to sing.”

“Okay… I guess I can do that. But I can’t feel a connection to the songs they want me to sing. How am I going to perform them successfully if I can’t relate to any of them?”

“Hmm…” he scratched his stubble for a second. “Maybe you’re too much in your head right now. You need a break. Let’s go out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Let’s go out. Now.”

“I — Uh…”

“You’re stressed out and you won’t find a solution to your problem like this. I’m giving you an opportunity to chill. So unless you also signed a contract binding you from having fun, what do you have to lose?”

 _He’s not wrong…_ “Okay, let’s do it,” she replied.

Watching a genuine smile soften his features for the first time, she let him guide her out of the record label building to his car.

He murmured something in Spanish to his driver, who smiled and nodded.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he winked.

Tiffani looked away, crossed her arms and legs unamused.

“I like how you’re pulling off the diva attitude. The pouty lips are something else,” he jested, breaking the silence in the car.

“You can’t stop flirting with me, can you?”

“How presumptuous of you, Tiffani. What makes you think I am?”

“If you cared enough to pay attention to my lips and make a remark about them, you definitely are.”

He didn’t say anything, yet she noticed a corner of his mouth quirk up in the dark.

As the car rolled to a stop, he offered his hand to her. She took it and climbed out, walking right into a place in a dark alley called San Pedrito’s.

He smiled at the bouncer, who let them in. Still holding her hand, they got in, he greeted several people and briefly introduced her to them before they walked upstairs to a private booth, from where the entire nightclub could be seen.

“Whoa…” she blurted.

“I know,” he smiled at her. “Drinks?”

“Sure,” she replied absentmindedly, mesmerized by the crowd dancing on the ground floor.

“Dos barcadí daiquiris, por favor,” he said to a waiter, who nodded and walked away, arriving just a few minutes later with their cocktails.

She sighed contently sipping the refreshing sweetened lime juice mixed with rum.

“Good. You’re getting it,” Raleigh whispered in her ear.

“Huh?”

“The tempo of the song.”

She suddenly was aware of her foot tapping on the floor, instinctively following the enticing beat. “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“Exactly,” he leaned against the railing with the glass of dairiqui in his hand. “Music is supposed to make you feel something. You listen to it and you feel the beat, sense the melody, it brings back memories, it gives you new emotions. You don’t have to think about it. That’s why you couldn’t find a solution before.”

“Oh…” she pondered. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

“I understand. Teachers give all these tips and techniques on how to analyze a song, but they forget to tell us the whole theory won’t mean anything if we don’t feel it,” he had one last sip of his cocktail, took her drink from her hand and placed on the table along with his own. “Alright, time to hit the dancefloor.”

Her eyes widened and she froze, her hands clenching the railing. She may have some moves, but none of them includes Latin music steps.

“Come on. There isn’t a better way to feel a song than dancing.” He put his hand atop of hers.

She hesitated, chewing on a fingernail. “I don’t know the steps.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Well, I do.”

She smiled coyly and nodded to him.

Holding hands again, Raleigh and Tiffani descended the stairs, stepping right into the dancefloor where a song with salsa influenced melody started to play.

Raleigh pulled her close, one of his hands running down to the small of her back as he positioned one of his legs between hers.

A light shade of pink bloomed on her cheeks.

“Relax, Tiffani. Just follow my lead.” He began to move his hips to the sides, guiding her to do the same.

She moved stiffly, intimidated by the closeness to his muscular body.

“I know you can do better than that,” he uttered. “Come on, you know this song… Loosen up, mami. Feel the rhythm.”

As the song switched to a captivating reggaeton beat, Tiffani put her hand on his shoulder, he clasped her other hand and they glided in circles across the dancefloor, swaying in a fluid, sensuous motion. Heat spread through her body while he sang the lyrics in her ear, his lips brushing on her neck, his warm breath eliciting goosebumps on her skin. She closed her eyes and lost herself in his arms as he guided her through the alluring rhythm.

When the song came to its end and their eyes met, his lips just a few inches away from hers, neither of them unwilling to let go of each other. But as the room was filled with applause, they were pulled out of the trance. They turned to the crowd smiling timidly and returned to his private booth.

She sat down on the couch whilst Raleigh went to the bar to fetch them more drinks before joining her on the couch.

“How do you feel about the album issue now?”

“Better. I mean, I probably won’t get the chance to dance like that while I listen to them, but I get it now. Thanks.” Small dimples formed on her cheeks as she blushed.

“You’re welcome.” He held her waist and pulled her close. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll drop by at the studio sometime next week to help you again,” he murmured, his face almost touching hers once again as his hands ran down her sides.

“I’d like that,” she purred, her stomach fluttering as he gaped at her lips.

“Good to know,” he smirked and closed the gap, claiming her lips as his at last.


End file.
